


Murderer

by XLazy



Category: Monsta X (Band), Shine Forever - Monsta X (Music Video)
Genre: Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lee Minhyuk-centric, Mental Instability, One Shot, Sad Lee Minhyuk, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Suicide, mentions of the other members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XLazy/pseuds/XLazy
Summary: Minhyuk knew the others blamed him for Kihyun's death.He did also blame himself after all.What he didn't know was, how much it would destroy him.--Based off of the Shine Forever MV





	Murderer

He knew it was his fault.

He had never denied the blame resting on his shoulders.

Sometimes it felt heavy, so heavy, that he couldn't walk, couldn't breathe. It was always there. At all times it reminded him of his faults, and in the dark moments it would drive him dangerously close to a fall, that he didn't even want to imagine.

He had beaten himself up over it. Countless times, not eating, not sleeping, just sitting in the darkness, self-loathing eating up his whole existence. Sometimes he had punched himself, sometimes he had used something else, a knife, a needle, anything to make himself feel the pain, everyone felt because of him.

And everytime he had cried. Sobs tearing apart the silence, teardrops running down his cheeks despite his aggressive attempts at stopping them.

He had punched the floor until he broke his wrist and fractured three out of four knuckles. He had hit himself, until his body was covered in ugly bruises. He had screamed at his own failure until he coughed blood and couldn't talk for days.

He had cried, cried ugly tears of pain until he had passed out.

The result was still the same guilt, the same mistakes holding him down.

\--

Minhyuk knew that the others blamed him.

They had made their position clear enough, from the very beginning of everything. He had received punches, yells, beatings.

And he had accepted them with open arms, more than happy to welcome them. Anything was more welcome than the cold way they looked past him as if he wasn't there, more welcome than the sinking into frosty silence whenever their eyes met.

He was excluded. It was his fault. He had killed their brother and now he was not part of the family anymore.

Exclusion was one of the things Minhyuk hated the most. It had been a vicious cycle between wanting to be accepted again and beating himself up for it. And again it had almost led to his destruction.

\--

There was no end to it. He tried going on, shedding the weight resting on his shoulders, but they only got heavier with every second ticking by.

He was not invited to the funeral. In some way it had made sense to him, in some way he was even glad about it, hoping to forget, even as guilt swallowed him up.

But it didn't work.

The night of the funeral he drank. He had told himself it was to pay respect, but for whoever paid attention, it was nothing more than a petty excuse. The first bottle followed a second. Then a third. Maybe a fourth, too? Or even a fifth.

The drugs followed almost naturally.

By the time, darkness had settled over the city, he was more dead than alive. He had cried, he had raged, he had eaten the pills as if they were the last medicine to keep him sane.

By dawn he was in the hospital, due to a life-threatening overdose of drugs and alcohol.

When he asked how he was found they wouldn't answer.

Why did it matter to him? Was he still hoping his brothers would forgive his unerasable mistake and look out for him?

He was wrong of course.

He was wrong and everything stopped mattering to him.

Why go on? Why struggle? Why suffer? Why live?

The answer had been clear as day and in the end it had still tied him down, unable to flee from reality.

Why should he be allowed to flee from the pain and not the others? It had held him down, bound him to his body. And with his body the ever growing last.

\--

At some point, he had been kicked out.

Not living with his brothers meant paying for his own flat.

Only that he had not done so. He didn't know if he had been a student or if he had been working. His memories were erased, eaten up by the pain clocking his head.

Day and night were like a gray fog, mixing together as an indistinct mass. He lost feeling of time and space. With that he lost the ability to feel hunger or tiredness.

Seconds felt like months, months like seconds.

Peoples’ faces blurred together, staring at the figure that sat the corner of the street motionlessly.

The words they said were without meaning, hollow promises, senseless questions, empty consolations. With time they stopped being coherent, appearing to him like everything else was. A gray mass, a fog that surrounded him.

He didn't stop feeling. Emotions were the only things that were real to him. But they still hadn't changed. The same self-loathing, the same anger, the same helplessness.

It was the same pain, that stayed by his side during that time.

He didn't know how long he cowered in the streets, living like any other rat. He did eat, despite himself.

It was more of an instinct than anything, as if his body wanted to make him suffer, not allowing him to die of starvation, dehydration or even hypothermia.

Maybe he spent less than a day, sitting at that corner and ignoring the grey fog that was everything but his thoughts. Maybe those hours were years, years spent living in that very fog.

It still didn't matter to him.

\--

Eventually he got away from the streets. He didn't know how or when.

Maybe his body had moved out of necessity, maybe someone had taken him. It was probably the latter.

Minhyuk was crawling like a dead man. The memory of the accident was clearer than it had ever been, making him stumble with the added weight resting on his body.

He relived it.

He saw the street again. Could hear the radio blare in the background, could feel the cool wind sliding over his arm, from where it was hanging out of the opened car window.

He saw them all, every tree that appeared at the roadside, every bump their car had mastered, every new scenario that revealed itself after they rounded the next corner.

He could still hear the pearly laughter of his brother, as they fondly revised funny stories.

He had been selfish and careless.

He had deserved it.

His brother didn't.

From one second to the other laughter had turned into yells. The driving had tired him out, even though he was the one who volunteered, the one who was so insistent on controlling this little journey. He had been impatient, meeting his brother's ideas with resolute denial.

The suggestion of a break was never even considered.

And 12 minutes later his brother had been dead.

\--

To this very day Minhyuk remembered how it felt. The exact moment as every ounce of control he had, slipped through his fingers. He remembered the way the air had left his lungs as he realized in panic they were spinning, turning, falling.

The first impact was on his side. Through wonders, that he loathed to this very day, he received no life-threatening injuries.

He could recall this scene at every time, in every situation. It was carved into his brain, following him like his most loyal friend, visiting him in his dreams again, again and again.

The second impact was louder. Wood exploded, metall was ripped apart, glass bursted into uncountable sharp fragments, piercing his arms, face and chest.

He still couldn't remember, couldn't remember the searing pain, couldn't remember the blood soaking his clothes.

He only remembered the other boy.

Saw those cold eyes, the lifeless body.

He didn't remember screaming either, or nearly ripping out his leg as he tried to get to him.

He just remembered the weight settling on his shoulders like a deadly blanket, remembered the mark that everyone had to see.

He had killed his brother. He was a murderer.

\--

When his eyes opened the next time the fog had dispersed.

He felt numb, eyes staring at a tiled ceiling, yet remaining unseeing.

The only thing he registered was the deadly weight embracing him. It was still there. The guilt, the pain. It only got worse, pressing his whole body down, making him immobile.

He had called out to his brother and to the other brothers, but no sound left his mouth. He didn't deserve it anyway.

He spent time in that white room, unmoving. He saw people go in and out. They attempted to talk to him, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't reply. At some point everything just went back to how it was.

Different nurses became one and the same person, eventually succumbing to the fog that replaced his surroundings once more.

Words were nothing more than senseless noise that surrounded him day in day out.

He didn't register his environment anymore, all of his senses turned to his insides.

He listened to his own screams and cries, watched his own anger, felt his own helplessness and pain.

Why was he still alive?

\--

He should have died. He should have died that day. It didn't make any sense, why had he survived?

He shouldn't have. And now, finally, it didn't matter anymore. Because now he was making up for it.

The thought brought the first smile to his lips.

The feeling of falling was familiar to him. He had lived with it, carried the heavy weight wherever he went.

The first time he fell it had played him into the cruel fangs of life. This time it brought freedom.

  
He hit the ground with a smile on his lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> First of all thank you for reading :3
> 
> To be honest I'm pretty insecure about this fic, since I used a completely different style in comparison to my usual style (as you can see in my first fic) and wrote heavy angst so yeah... I hope you still enjoyed it? C:
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated as always~


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